Page 144 of Imperfect Player

“Back at you, beautiful.”

I press my lips to her shoulder.

“Lie down. Get comfortable. You’re in for a very long night.”

She does as I ask, and fuck if my heart doesn’t stop beating at the sight of her lying there before me. It’s more than her body or the way that her blonde hair fans around her head—yes, she looks like a fucking angel sent from heaven, but it’s more. It’s the way in this moment she bares her heart. Her soul. She proves to me that this is real, and even more that I’m forgiven.

That look in her eyes as I shed my clothing is filled with love and happiness.

Completeness.

I smile as I take her in. I smile because she’s mine. Because no one else can have her. I smile because, fuck, I can’t do anything else when I look at her.

I may have been dealt a shit hand as a kid, but fuck if I wasn’t given the world the moment that Everly stepped into my life.

I crawl onto the bed, my body covering hers. Our eyes meet, and they hold the gaze we share.

“Marry me, Everly. You’re already my everything, be my wife.”

The words fall from my lips without thought, and I’m not even stunned or bothered by the fact that they do. I mean them. I want it. I want us. No amount of time is going to change that. Nothing that we go through will either.

This connection, our bond, it’s forever, whether we want it or not.

“Are you . . . Are you serious?”

My lips claim hers, then pull back just as quickly.

“I’m serious. Like, let’s fly to Vegas tomorrow and do it kind of serious.”

“Let’s do it.”

Let’s do it.

Even if we crash, when we crash, we may burn, but those flames will never go away. The wreckage will be removed, and we’ll still be standing on the other side.

My fingers dip between her already-parted thighs, the ones my hips are nestled between. When I find her wet, I smile. Hand on my cock, I line myself up at her entrance and press into her.

The motion is slow, so excruciatingly slow that I’m actually starting to regret my decision to worship her tonight. Am I going to be able to do this? How the fuck am I not going to cum the moment that I bottom out in her.

I’ve been deprived of this, of her, for too long. Way too fucking long.

As I slowly begin to move, I feather her with kisses and soft touches. I whisper promises and I love you’s.

I keep the apologies I want to utter to myself and save them for a different time. For every day for the rest of my life.

I commit her sounds to memory, the way we feel together.

I groan as her nails dig into my biceps as she begs for more.

It’s the more that we both love. The spanking, the rough, the hard. The undeniable desire we have to please each other, our bodies always wanting more. Craving it until we explode.

Not tonight.

Tonight, I can’t give her what I know she wants, what I want too. Tonight I give us what we need. Slow, emotional, soul-baring sex that feels so good and so right that it makes you want to charge for that release. A form of foreplay, if you will, before the good part.

With Everly, though, all of it is the good part, and I have all night to show her that.

So despite the nails that dig deeper, the plea in her eyes, I keep the slow and steady pace. I make love to her because I do, in fact, love her. More than anything or anyone.

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